Yet even these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still2 erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deckt,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
To teach the rustic moralist to die.

For3 who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warin precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Even in our ashes 5 live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonoured dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If, 'chance, by lonely contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,

(1) Yet even, &c.—The direct train of thought, which has been long interrupted, is here resumed, from the stanza beginning, "Nor you, ye proud," and may be thus connected :-Though these poor people have no monuments in cathedrals, yet even they love to have some memorial, however frail, raised near their bones, to bespeak the sympathy of passers-by.

(2) Still-always, continually; as if put for, "you will constantly find." A somewhat rare use of the word, if this be indeed its meaning here, which is not certain.

(3) For, &c.-This stanza is connected with the last but one; the last being in parenthesis.

(4) Pious drops-affectionate tears; taken in the sense of the Latin pius, dutiful to relations.

(5) Even in our ashes, &c.—even in the grave, that desire for affectionate sympathy which we evinced when alive, is expressed by the "frail memorial still erected nigh." Chaucer writes ;

"Yet in our ashen cold is fire y-reken (smoking)."

(6) For thee, &c.-i. e. as to thee. The remainder of the poem refers to the character and circumstances of the author, who, by reflecting on the condition and fate of others is naturally reminded of his own.

66

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say
Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn,
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

"There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
["Him have we seen1 the greenwood side along,
While o'er the heath we hied, our labour done,
Oft as the woodlark piped her farewell song,
With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun.]

'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping woeful wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

'One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

"The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne :-
Approach, and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.

["There scattered2 oft, the earliest of the year,
By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;
The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
And little footsteps lightly print the ground."]

THE EPITAPH.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth

A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown:

(1) Him have we seen, &c.-This stanza, the "Doric delicacy" of which is praised by Mason, completes the poet's day, by supplying the evening. It is taken from Gray's first manuscript.

(2) There scattered, &c.-This exquisite stanza was printed in the earlier editions, but afterwards omitted by the author "because he thought it was too long a parenthesis in this place." The judgment is perhaps correct, but it is re-admitted here, notwithstanding, for the reason given in note 7, p. 61.

F

Fair Science' frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty,3 and his soul sincere ;*
Heaven did a recompence as largely send :
He gave to misery all he had, a tear;

He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.

No further seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God.

Gray.

TO A WATER-FOWL.

WHITHER, midst falling dew,7

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As darkly painted on the crimson sky,

Thy figure floats along.

(1) Fair science, &c.-i. e. the lowliness of his birth (not, however, that Gray's birth was actually humble) did not interfere with his successful pursuit of science and knowledge.

(2) Gray was of a grave temperament, and yet, like Cowper, wrote some particularly humorous poems.

(3) Bounty-The word usually refers to actual generosity, but here it seems to mean generosity of heart.

(4) Sincere-open and capable of friendship.

(5) Friend-probably the poet refers to his friend Mason.

(6) There-in their "dread abode," the bosom, i. e. the mercy of God, to which he refers both his merits and his frailties.

These notes may properly conclude with Dr. Johnson's judgment on the poem, that it "abounds with images which find a mirror in every mind, and with sentiments to which every bosom returns an echo." See "Life of Gray."

(7) Falling dew-This marks the time; for the bird being high in the air, was not, of course, in the midst of "falling dew."

Seek'st thou the plashy' brink

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocky billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?

There is a power whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast3-
The desert and illimitable air-

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned,
At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end;
Soon shalt thou find a summer-home, and rest,
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.

Thou'rt gone-the abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart,
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.

He, who from zone to zone

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way, that I must tread alone,

Will lead my steps aright.

Bryant.

(1) Plashy-from the noun plash. The termination ash, according to Dr. Wallis, denotes a sharp, sudden motion, gradually subsiding, as in crash, flash, plash, &c. See his Grammatica Linguæ Anglicana," p. 160.

(2) There is a power, &c.-i. e. the inquiries in the last stanza seem to impute vagueness and indecision to thy movements, but such is not their character;There is a power that teaches thee thy way, &c.

(3) Coast-A peculiar but striking use of the word, as if the bird were skirting the very vault of the sky.

ALEXANDER SELKIRK'S SOLILOQUY.'

I AM monarch2 of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech-
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestowed upon man,
Oh! had Ï the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again :
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth;
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.

(1) Alexander Selkirk was a sailor, who having quarrelled with his captain, was set on shore by him, in the year 1704, on the uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, and remained there more than four years.

(2) Monarch, sovereign-The former word-from the Greek μóvoc, alone, and άoxóc, a governor-signifies one who has sole authority; sovereign-from the Latin supremus (through the old English, sovran), highest-one who has the highest authority. As there was no question of rank in Selkirk's case, the aptness of the word "monarch" is obvious.

(3) Humanity-human nature, mankind.

(4) Divinely-as the Latin divinitus, by divine providence, from heaven.